Warcraft A Day in Dalaran

AN: Hello again, friends. This is a follow-up to my story "A Night in Dragonblight."

I must apologize for being bad at troll accents. I try my best. :)

This story contains sexual content, violence, and a semblance of a plot, I think.

I do not own World of Warcraft.

* * *

The night elf huntress sighed tiredly as she gazed up the carpeted flight of stairs before her. After months of sleeping on the ground and nearly freezing to death, all that lay between her and a proper bed were these stairs. Deep weariness settled into her bones. Even such a mundane task seemed monumental. Mentally shaking herself, she gripped the sturdy handrail and began the seemingly endless climb to her room.

The huntress, named Moriene, wasn't much worse for the wear, but the hard months were evident in her appearance. Her light-purple skin was chapped from the icy winds of Icecrown and she felt a layer of grime all over her body she had not yet been able to purge. That, she decided, would have to come before a much-needed sleep, assuming she didn't fall asleep in the process of scrubbing. Her angular face, with its high cheekbones and pointed chin, was set in a weary expression. The dark purple leaf-shaped marks around her eyes did little to conceal the weary bags she had developed after many a restless night. Long, white hair, normally pristine and severely braided, was now caked with dirt and falling away from its braid. Her mail armor was dirty and in dire need of repairs. Just from glancing down her front, she could see several broken links, and in some places bits of leather were torn. The huntress grimaced at the thought of the hefty repair bill that would await her.

Coming to a small landing, the elf paused and leaned against a wall to rest a moment. The maids had taken her companion, a white striped saber named Anta'nar, and most of her belongings to her room while she took her gryphon Justice to the stables. The only items she had not allowed them to take were her weapons: a bow, quiver, and hunting knife. Even in the neutral city of Dalaran she would not risk going weaponless, especially since she'd had to take a room in the large, faction-neutral inn in the center of the city. All of the rooms in the Alliance inn were full and she suspected the same would be true of the Horde inn. That left returning fighters three options: sleeping in the Underbelly, the smelly sewers of the city with its blackmarket, magic-infused waste water, and whatever strange beasts dwelt there; the neutral inn, which was much larger than either the Alliance or Horde inn, but more prone to small scuffles between members of the opposing factions within its halls; or going to one of the larger keeps in other parts of Northrend and hoping they had room. Moriene had been lucky and early enough to get one of the better rooms here in the neutral inn, having refused outright to step foot in the disgusting Underbelly.

When she felt she had rested enough, she pushed herself away from the wall and went back to climbing the stairs. Out of habit, her free hand went to rest at the necklace she wore as her only ornamentation, besides the marks around her eyes. It was a simple piece set on a leather thong; a red, braided piece with a few carved beads, woven carefully into a circle. It was her one reminder of a passionate night she had shared with a troll some months back. Many assumed the braid of his hair was just thin red string braided with beads she had carved herself into the shapes of animal heads. She let people assume. It was better than telling the truth and being branded as a traitor to the Alliance. After all, she didn't feel like a traitor. They hadn't discussed war tactics or anything of that sort. If anything, she felt like the main character in one of the dramatic stories told by overenthusiastic bards about star-crossed lovers and their inevitable doom.

Moriene sighed deeply. She'd thought about Zul'antok often since their meeting. During the countless nights she spent in a thin tent in Icecrown, too close to the Citadel for her own liking and surrounded by hundreds of scared and disgruntled troops, she liked to remember that night and put her worries out of her mind. She would wonder if he lay in the Horde camp hundreds of yards away and if he thought of her as often as she did him. A small part of her wondered if he had even survived the battle against the Scourge and the fall of Arthas, but she tried to ignore that part. Even if she never saw him again, for any number of reasons, she could still look back on her memories and smile. She just hoped she _would_ see him again.

At last, she made it to the right floor. Praying to Elune that her bath would be waiting for her, she fumbled with her room key and made her way inside.

If she had to describe her room in a word, she would have said "comfortable". The floor was wood but littered with thick rugs in a plethora of colors and materials. She had her own hearth with a roaring fire, a small table with two simple wooden chairs, a wardrobe, and a single window that looked out over the shops of Dalaran. A large easy chair was set before the fire, probably for reading or simply relaxing. A small door led off into a separate room for bathing and other necessaries, much to her relief. Some inns had everything all in one room, which she didn't much care for. Steam rose from the spacious tub, making her groan with longing. At last, her attention turned towards the bed. It was large, perhaps long enough to fit all of her on it, and looked very comfortable. It had plenty of pillows and quilted blankets to help keep her warm in the chilly Northrend nights, a blessing after so many nights in the cold.

Anta'nar lay stretched out by the fire. Moriene saw what looked like the remains of cooked fish nearby and grinned. She would have to remember to tip the maids extra for that. Having eaten his fill, the saber seemed content to sleep for now.

Not trusting herself to sit on the bed even for a moment in case she fell asleep, the huntress instead went to the wardrobe and selected a clean nightgown. The maids had taken all the clothes in her packs to wash and she had been instructed to use whatever extras remained in the wardrobe. This would have to do until her clothes were returned. The silly garment was white and lacy and was probably made for a human. The sleeves barely reached her elbows and the skirt ended well above her knees. Still, it wasn't like anyone would see her in it.

Tossing the nightgown over a wooden rack in the bathing room, she returned to her bedroom to remove her armor. It was a slow process, full of groaning and rubbing limbs that hadn't been free of the armor for entirely too long. She discovered bruises she didn't know she had, including a large one over her hip that was turning green. Worst of all was the smell on the clothes she'd worn under her armor. The woolen shirt and leather pants were stained with sweat and Elune knew what else. Grimacing, Moriene decided they probably would have to be burned.

Just as she was about to remove the horrendous garments, a loud knock came at her door. Biting back her exasperation, she called, "Who is it?"

"Ya be gettin' three guesses," came the low reply.

The huntress froze in her tracks as her heart suddenly started pounding in her chest. Slowly, as if in a trance, she went to the door and opened it wide, her smelly clothes forgotten. Before her, tall, lean, and mercifully alive stood Zul'antok, the troll she had met what seemed like a lifetime ago. Without thinking, she dragged him into her room and locked the door behind him before they were seen together. Then, not caring that they both stank like two warriors after months without proper baths, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. She heard several thuds that were his bags hitting the floor before his arms circled around her and held her close. Judging by the intensity of his returning kiss, he hadn't forgotten her any more than she had him. Their weariness was temporarily forgotten; all that mattered was that they were alive, and they were together.

At last, she pulled away and laughed for the first time in a very long while. "We need baths," she remarked with a smirk. Zul'antok was taller than she by perhaps two feet. His blue skin was just as dirty and chapped as hers and his once majestic crimson mohawk was now dirty and matted. His long, straight nose and even longer tusks protruded out while his red eyes burned deep in his skull like two smoldering coals. Just then, they were the two most beautiful eyes in the world to Moriene. Like her, his armor was filthy and in disrepair. And he stank.

The troll grinned, then hesitated. "Dey be havin' no more rooms," he began.

"Stay with me," the huntress replied immediately. "With enough of a bribe, the staff will remain silent. Perhaps they will show us the servants' exits so the other guests will be none the wiser. Besides," she bent down to greet his pet, a dreadsaber from Sholazar Basin by the name of Pounce. "With all of the victory celebrations, people probably would not notice anyway."

Zul'antok relaxed. Had he thought she would refuse? "Ya be sayin' somet'in' about a bath?" he asked hopefully.

They managed to fit both of them into the tub with Moriene sitting between the troll's long legs. It was a tight fit, but neither of them minded the closeness after so long apart. They took the opportunity to reacquaint themselves with each other's body. After seeing each other's bruises and bone-deep weariness, they silently and mutually agreed to hold off any lovemaking until they were somewhat recovered. They scrubbed each other while they discussed the events of the war and how they had come to the city. Zul'antok explained to her that he'd seen Justice in the stables in instantly recognized the feisty gryphon as hers. It had been a matter of bribing the right person to find out which room was hers.

"Truly, a master tracker," she teased with a smile. Grinning lopsidedly, he splashed her, making her laugh and splash him in return. Only when most of the bath water lay pooled on the ground did they stop to mop up their mess and dry off.

At last, feeling like a new person, clean and in the silly nightgown, Moriene brushed out her hair while she told him of her duties. "We were in the Alliance camp near the base of the Citadel," she explained as she worked at a tangle in her long, white, and mercifully clean locks. "We were among the first to go in. We secured the first room and held it against the Scourge. When relief came, my group was sent to assist with the battle against Saurfang." She paused and glanced over at him. "I am sorry for his death-and undeath. I am sure that was a great loss for the Horde."

Next to her, Zul'antok was fixing his mohawk. "Dat be de way o' war," he said grimly. "My group be de one fightin' ol' Sindragosa. Many from my group be dead."

Done brushing her hair, Moriene placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I am sorry, Zul'antok. I truly am."

The troll grunted and pulled her close in a one-armed hug. "She woulda killed ol' Zul'antok, but de help came at de right time."

"And for that, I am glad." The huntress buried her nose in his chest, enjoying the smell of his skin. There had been no clothes that would fit him, so he simply wore nothing. Not that she minded. "I missed you," she murmured before she could stop herself.

"An' I be missin ya," he murmured into her hair. He still wore the ring of her braided hair around one of his large fingers, which made her smile. "I be t'ankin' all de Gods ya be safe." Then, he held her out at arm's length and smirked. "Dat not be leavin' much to de imagination."

Looking down, Moriene saw what he meant. Once the nightgown was on, it was practically sheer. Shrugging, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. "Then we shall both sleep nude." Giving her hips a little extra sway, she went to the bed and crawled in. Just as she'd hoped, it was just long enough to fit all of her on it. As she settled under the blankets, he joined her and curled up so his feet were not hanging off the side of the bed.

"Ya torture me," he grumbled in her ear, holding her close.

"Only because I like you," she teased, kissing his long nose.

* * *

Some time later, Moriene awoke and found that the sun had gone down, leaving the fireplace as the only source of light in the room. Zul'antok still slept peacefully beside her, one large arm circled around her as she rested against him. Careful not to wake him up, she climbed out of bed and wrapped herself in a large bathrobe she found in the wardrobe. Satisfied that it covered her much better than the flimsy nightgown had, she carefully opened the door and saw a maid nearby. "Miss," she called. "If I may have a word?"

Once the appropriate bribes had been paid, Moriene was supplied with more fish for their pets, a hand-drawn map of all the servants' exits, spare clothes large enough for a troll, and the sworn oath from the maids that they would not breathe a word of her roommate. She had also managed to hire a runner to take their armor for repairs, but she knew it would be a while before it would be returned. Any blacksmith, tailor, and leather worker in the city would be swamped with repairs until the fighters all moved on from the city.

But, most importantly, she paid for a hot meal to be delivered straight to their room. Her order had been simple enough, except for one thing. When she'd asked, the maid looked at her strangely and said she would see what could be done. The huntress had to accept that. After all, what were the chances it could be found so far south?

When the tray of food arrived and was set on the little table, Moriene went to wake up Zul'antok. She touched his arm gently, then bit back a yelp as he grabbed her and pinned her on the bed, his eyes burning with...rage? She stared up at him with wide eyes until he realized where he was, and who she was. Slowly, the rage faded from his eyes and he frowned. "Sorry," he grumbled, helping her to stand once more. "I be forgettin' we be done fightin'."

"Try to remember next time," the huntress replied softly, the tremble in her voice betraying her well-hidden shock. "I would hate to have to break you."

The troll kissed her hand, his expression grave. "Be ya forgivin' dis ol' troll?"

The corners of her mouth twitched. "I shall be much more forgiving once I have eaten. Come along, it is getting cold."

Once he'd put on the clothes she'd procured, Moriene had to stifle a laugh. The clothes were probably meant for tauren, judging by how they hung off of him like loose skin. But the smell of food drew her attention away from his dress. On their table was a small pot of onion stew, a loaf of bread, some sort of roasted fowl, a bowl of fruit, and a pony keg with two empty mugs. They descended on the food like a pair of ravenous wolves, pausing only to fill their mugs. Zul'antok took a gulp and nearly spat out the liquor. "Kungaloosh!" he cried as Moriene laughed and laughed.

After they finished eating, they nibbled on fruit and drank the Kungaloosh while watching their pets wrestle. "How long do you think you shall be in the city?" the huntress asked.

The troll scratched his great nose. "Dunno," he replied honestly. "Gotta wait fo' my armor. An' den, who can say?"

Moriene understood. It was only a matter of time until there was another great call to arms against some large enemy. Already, there were whispers of some great cataclysmic event looming over Azeroth. Just thinking about it made the elf feel even more tired. It seemed there was some great war or tragedy every few years, if not more often. She shook herself mentally and took another drink of Kungaloosh. "If there is anything I have learned in my four hundred-odd years in this life," she began, reaching to place her hand on his. "it is that we should enjoy what time we have together instead of worrying about what is to come. Times of peace are so fleeting…"

Technically, she knew they were not at peace. They were never at peace so long as the Alliance and the Horde held onto their rivalry. Some factions, such as the Cenarion Circle, maintained neutrality and served as bastions of peace in an uncertain world. More than once, the thought had occurred to her that they could seek refuge with the druids there so the two of them could be together. The thought was almost instantly dismissed. What would she do after he was gone? she asked herself. His life was so brief compared to hers. And besides, they were hardly close enough to declare undying love for each other. Certainly, they had some sort of bond that they had forged that night in Dragonblight, but love? Swearing to take no other lover for all of her long, long life? That seemed a bit far. Besides, the Kaldorei were not known for eternal monogamy, save for a few special cases. And certainly not with trolls.

Zul'antok squeezed her hand, bringing out of her reverie. "Ya be right," he said, getting up. "An' for now, I be t'inkin' we be needin' more sleep."

Nodding her agreement, she let him help her up and was asleep almost as soon as her head met the pillow.

The troll watched her sleep for a moment with a frown before sighing and closing his eyes.

* * *

It was well after dawn when Moriene finally awoke. Zul'antok and both of their pets were gone, along with their dirty dishes from the night before. She also noticed that her clothes, freshly laundered and neatly folded, had returned and sat on the side of the bed Zul'antok had vacated. Stretching, the elf moved to the window and opened the shutters to observe the city.

From here, she could see several of the tall towers that gave Dalaran its unique skyline, their pointed tops gleaming in the morning sun. She saw the large bank, busy as always, but with several more armed guards than normal. Frowning, she turned her gaze to the commercial district of Dalaran and saw guards outside of each shop, their sharp eyes watching each passerby. Then, she noticed the reason for all of the extra guards. Lining the roads everywhere she could see were soldiers from the war who hadn't been lucky enough to get rooms. They sat or lay in the cobbled streets like homeless vagabonds with nowhere else to go.

Frowning deeper, Moriene moved away from the window and sat in the comfortable chair before the fire. Before she could brood, the big troll returned with breakfast, their cats in tow.

While they ate, Zul'antok described all of the commotion in the city. Apparently, fighters from Icecrown were still arriving, and the inns were all full. Even the Underbelly was overstuffed with people who had nowhere else to stay the night. There was a massive line of people waiting for taxi mounts to return so they could be taken elsewhere. Even the portal mages were used up, having been working tirelessly to send people to the capital cities of the Alliance and the Horde. Anyone without a flying mount of their own was stuck in the city, for now. On top of that, food was in short supply. It had gotten to the point where inns refused to sell to anyone but people staying in their rooms, lest they not be able to feed even them. Moriene frowned as she ate her oatmeal with nuts and raisins. It didn't seem right to refuse food to someone.

"So, we be stuck in here fo' today," Zul'antok concluded, finishing his food and sitting back. "'less ya wanna risk gettin' mugged fo' ya scraps."

"No, I would not fancy that," the huntress replied slowly. "Still, I wish I could help somehow."

"De only t'ing ya could do, pretty elf, would be ta cook yaself an' offer yaself ta dem. An' I don' t'ink ya be likin' dat idea," he added with a grin.

Looking horrified, the huntress pushed his shoulder lightly. "Do not joke about such things!"

"Dere be ones who like de taste o' Night Elf flesh," the troll retorted. "Ya can't fix all de problems in de world."

"No," Moriene sighed. "Nor would I want to. That would be an awful lot of work." Resigning herself to a day of boredom, the huntress put her folded clothes into the wardrobe and flung herself onto the bed. The troll joined her shortly after and they gazed up at the ceiling together. "What are the other patrons doing?" she asked after a comfortable silence.

"Gamblin'. Complainin'. Drinkin'. Hirin' company. Fightin'. De usual."

"How dull." She stifled a yawn and noticed he was watching her. "What?"

"Ya be more beautiful den I remember," he murmured, caressing her cheek with one of his large hands.

Moriene found it was suddenly hard to breathe. "I dreamed of this almost every night," she murmured, drawing closer so that they were mere inches apart.

Zul'antok brought himself even closer, his lips nearly touching hers. "Dis be better dan any dream," he whispered, bringing his lips to hers. They kissed for several long moments, simply enjoying each other's presence. Soon, the kiss deepened, becoming more demanding. Moriene's heart pounded in her chest as she felt him untie her robe and gently ease it open. Once she was exposed, he leaned back to admire her in all her naked glory. She tried to reach out to undress him, but he had other plans. Deftly, he used the belt from the robe to tie her hands to the headboard. It was loose enough where she could escape if she really wanted, but tight enough to be exciting.

Careful not to stab her with his tusks, he kissed his way down her body while she watched with rapt attention. Just as he reached her soft breasts, he hesitated, letting his breath tickle the sensitive flesh. Moriene bit her lip and shivered with delight. Then, tenderly, he kissed each breast and continued his path downward. The huntress bit back a moan when she realized what he was doing and spread her thighs eagerly. Chuckling softly, he kissed her inner thighs and edged closer to her femininity torturously slow. Finally, with his tusks resting on her pubis, he kissed and licked at her core in ways that made her squirm. His tongue would press into her slightly, only to pull away so he could kiss and flick his tongue against the sensitive bud near the top of her sex. Again and again, back and forth, he kept a steady pace that drove her absolutely wild.

Trying in vain to remain quiet, the huntress dug her fingers into the blankets underneath her and bit down on a pillow to muffle her increasingly desperate moans and gasps. She felt herself speeding towards her climax, her whole body stiffening and arching towards him. Gripping her hips to keep her in place, he focused all of his attention on her sensitive bud, his eyes watching her hungrily. Unable to stop herself, the huntress climaxed long and hard, her face buried in the pillow to muffle her cries of ecstasy. He prolonged her pleasure as long as he could and stopped when she finally fell limp.

When she could think somewhat clearly, Moriene removed the pillow from her face to find him lying next to her, smirking. Laughing softly, she tossed the pillow at him. "Stop that."

Chuckling in return, the troll tossed the pillow aside and went to pull her close. Realizing she was untied, she instead slipped out of his grip and straddled his hips, placing herself firmly atop him. He watched her warily, stopping her only when she went to guide him into her.

"We don' be needin' ta do dat yet," he said softly, though she could feel his need throbbing in her grasp.

"Why not?" she asked, confused.

"If ya be tired, or-" the rest of his sentence was cut off by a low groan as she pressed him into herself.

"There shall be plenty of time to sleep while we are apart," she gasped, easing him in slowly to give herself time to adjust to his size. "I want to take full advantage of our time together." At last, they were complete. The huntress started a slow, easy pace that he matched with his hips, his large hands helping to steady her atop him. They gazed into each other's eyes, silently sharing everything they had been too scared or too reluctant to say aloud. In that moment, they understood each other perfectly. Just as in the cave in Dragonblight, they were joined as two souls burning bright in the throes of passion, regardless of their opposing factions or race differences. How could any of that matter when they could so something so beautiful together?

Their pace quickened, the room filling with their gasping and panting. His hands moved from her hips to explore the rest of her body. He felt the curve of her waist, the soft flesh of her breasts, the strong muscles in her thighs. One hand dipped to tease her sensitive bud once more, making her moan louder than she intended. He grinned up at her as she bit her lip. She wouldn't last much longer, and he knew it. A growl deep in his throat was all it took to send her over the edge, quaking and writhing on top of him, her eyes rolling back into her head. Despite her best attempts, she cried out, only to be silenced when he pulled her down and kissed her hungrily.

"Oh, Zul'antok," she murmured when her quaking subsided. With another growl, he flipped them over to put himself on top and started a slow pace, one that would allow her to recover. Her nails dug into his back, earning her a hard thrust and a growl by her ear. Following his lead, she brought her lips close to his ear and let him hear every little gasp and moan that escaped her. Feeling adventurous, she tentatively nibbled on his earlobe. He shivered and gripped her tightly, his pace faltering momentarily before continuing slightly rougher than before. The huntress moaned deeply into his ear as she nibbled her way up the side, towards the pointed tip.

"If ya keep doin' dat," he growled, "I won't be lastin' long."

"Perhaps I do not want you to last much longer," she purred in reply.

The troll groaned deeply. Gripping the headboard with one hand and her with the other, he took up a hard, fast pace that drove him towards his own completion. Moriene clutched at his back eagerly and buried her face in his shoulder to silence the cries that threatened to burst from her traitorous throat. He lasted several more moments before peaking within her, his face buried in the pillows to muffle his voice as she had done. Even with the pillows, his voice echoed throughout the room as he lost himself in ecstasy.

While he recovered, the huntress gently rubbed his back, feeling where her nails had broken the skin. She didn't mind that she hadn't climaxed with him that time and reveled in the fact that she made him come undone so thoroughly. Besides, she was sure they would have many other tumbles before they had to leave.

When the troll finally sat up, Moriene took one look at him and burst out laughing. His tusks had gone all the way through a pillow, which he was trying to move with little success. Taking pity on him, the huntress tugged at the pillow until it came free, showering them with feathers. Zul'antok grinned and picked a feather out of her hair. "I be gettin' carried away."

The huntress merely smiled and kissed the silly troll while feathers cascaded around them like snow.

* * *

Some time later, Moriene lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was a steady, soothing noise; one that assured her he was real, alive, and there with her. Since he'd appeared in her doorway, she had feared it had all been a dream. His heartbeat was real enough, which was proof enough for her.

He cleared his throat and said in an uncharacteristically serious manner, "Be ya scared o' havin' babies?"

The troll sounded genuinely concerned, which made her smile. "It is quite difficult for a Kaldorei to get pregnant," she explained, tracing small circles on his chest with her fingertips. "And I have not heard of a Kaldorei getting pregnant by a troll. I suppose it may be possible, but unlikely."

She felt the troll relax some. "I be wonderin'. De way ya be pouncin' on poor Zul'antok all day be remindin' me of she-trolls in heat."

That took her aback. Heat? She remembered the warm feeling in her belly whenever she saw him and supposed it was possible. "If it happens, it happens."

"D'ya elfies worry 'bout anyt'in'?" he asked with a laugh.

"Nothing we do not have to," she retorted with a smile. "But, supposing we had a child...what do you suppose it would look like?"

The troll considered a moment. "It be havin ya hair," he replied finally, running thick fingers through her pale locks.

"And your eyes," she replied softly, stroking his cheek. "Do you suppose it would have tusks or fangs?"

"Tusks," the troll said immediately. "Dey be a strong part o' troll identity."

"But it would only be half troll," she countered.

"Half be enough. De tusks would be in de line for generations b'fore fadin' out."

Moriene had to accept that. "I suppose they would grow to be taller than me, and their skin would be very light purple, perhaps."

"If it be a girl, I be hopin' she gets her mother's beauty," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

The huntress glanced up at him sharply. "You say that as if I am already pregnant."

"Who can say?" he replied mildly. "As ya say, if it happens, it happens."

"And if it does happen," she began, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. "what would you do?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "S'pose I could be takin' ya back to de tribe an' claimin' ya as a wife."

The elf's eyes widened. "But trolls see their wives like livestock, do they not? I have heard women have no rights and are kept only to work and breed."

"Dat be de old ways. Dey be changin', but slowly. Many o' de other tribes still be livin' dat way, but Thrall be tellin' us ta make women our equals."

"I do not think I like the idea of living amongst trolls who see me as a slave," she remarked quietly. "And I simply could not abandon my people."

"Nor could I," the troll answered equally as quiet.

That was it then, she thought. They both knew they could go no further. One of his large fingers tipped her chin up so she looked at him.

"Ya eyes be goin' dark," he said with a frown. "What ya be t'inkin'?"

With a sigh, she explained her thoughts to him and waited tensely for his response.

"We don' have ta get married or live together," he said after a long pause. "Can it jus' be enough dat we be pledgin' ourselves to one another?"

The huntress swallowed a lump in her throat. "I cannot," she whispered. "If I do, then I will be doomed to centuries of solitude after you have gone. I could not bear…" She choked and could not continue.

"I can't be helpin' my mortality," he said softly.

"I know that, and I do not blame you." She pulled away from him and quickly got dressed. "I just...my heart could not stand the pain. Already I have grown too close to you, and…" She stopped, horrified. She had as well as confessed her feelings, her suspected love, for him. Before he could respond, she grabbed her heavy cloak and fled, leaving her companion and the only man she had ever loved behind.

The saber glared at the troll reproachfully, as if to say "What did you do now?"

* * *

Moriene was already scolding herself by the time Justice landed in Crystalsong Forest. Zul'antok had been so kind to her, and how did she repay him? By declaring she could not be with him and running away? She felt like she was two hundred again, running from her problems instead of working them through like an adult. Surely Zul'antok would be furious. She would be, in his shoes. She was so foolish!

She dismounted and let Justice loose to hunt the critters that hid within the forest. Walking along a stream, she brooded. Perhaps she had been right to flee. After all, what happy ending could they possibly have? In her mind, there was only a handful of ways this could turn out.

They could both walk away now and hope to forget about one another. Somehow, though, she knew she would remember him the rest of her long days.

They could both forsake their factions and their people to live as hermits. They both loved their people too much for this option, and she knew they would hate staying in one place for too long. On top of that, what was to stop their people from hunting them down and lynching them as traitors?

She could go to his tribe as his wife-slave, but she was too proud for that.

He could go to her people and beg to live among them as her partner, with her sponsorship. She knew he was too proud for that, too.

Or they could do as they had been, meeting each other in secret and hoping they were never caught.

Moriene sighed and rubbed her temples. None of the options were ideal. Very un-elf-like despair threatened to grip her heart. She had been so preoccupied that she hadn't heard footsteps approaching her.

"Well, well. I t'ought I be smellin' one o' our brothas, but it looks like we be findin' some elfie slut instead."

The huntress whirled around to find three trolls smirking at her. "Why is it that the worst insult anyone can think to throw at a female is "slut"?" she asked coldly, sizing the trolls up.

There were two males and a female, all in armor and with weapons on their belts or at their backs. They bore the insignia of the Darkspear tribe, Zul'antok's tribe.

"Whatcha be doin' smellin' like a Darkspear, elf?" the female asked, baring her teeth. Her tusks were considerably smaller than the males', but they would still be capable of ripping out her throat.

"None of your business," she hissed, showing her own fangs in defiance. Why hadn't she brought her weapons? She felt horribly naked without armor or weapons, and incredibly stupid. Had her emotions clouded her mind that much?

"What dis be?" Before she could stop him, one of the males grabbed her necklace and yanked it off painfully. He examined the looped braid and showed it to the others as they conferred in Zandali. She heard Zul'antok's name, and her blood went cold. The female gestured at Moriene's hair, then gestured at her hand. Had they figured out what his ring meant? Did they know about her secret affair?

"How ya be gettin' dis?" the female demanded, brandishing the braid at her. When the huntress merely glared, the troll slapped her hard across the face. "Answer me!"

"Ya best be answerin'," said one of the males with a cruel grin. "She be chasin' after Zul'antok for months. We be wonderin' why he been ignorin' her, but now it be clear." He eyed her over as if she were a slab of meat on display. "He be findin' an elfie play-toy."

"Slut!" the she-elf screamed, then lapsed into Zandali curses while one of the males held her back lazily. "I fight ya!" she spat finally. "I be takin' ya head an' givin it ta Zul'antok on a pike!"

"Go on, elfie," said the other male, pushing her towards the female. "Fight fo' ya master."

Gritting her teeth, the elf spat on the troll who pushed her. "He is not my master," she growled.

The troll shrugged. "Let her kill ya den. It don' matter to us."

The two males circled like sharks while the female troll drew a set of daggers. Moriene's mind raced. She would have to be quick to come out of this alive, let alone to win. While she racked her brain for some kind of plan, the troll lunged. Moriene managed to avoid getting stabbed right in the kidneys, but one of the knives nicked her side and made her grimace. The troll grinned and licked the blood off of her dagger. "Dis gon' be easy."

The troll lunged again, attacking with a flurry of jabs and feints. The elf managed to dance around the attacks, buying herself time to think while the wound in her side bled freely. She had to end it quick, but most of her fighting knowledge lay in ranged combat. With no bow, she was at a disadvantage. She had to get one of the daggers away from the troll.

Her window of opportunity opened when the troll got overconfident and lunged straight for her chest. Sidestepping the blade, the huntress grabbed the troll's wrist and slammed her fist into the small bones there. With a grunt, the troll let the dagger drop as her hand fell limp. "Bitch!" she hissed, cradling her injured wrist to her chest.

Moriene caught the dagger by its hilt and tested its weight in her hand. It was smaller than her hunting knife and considerably lighter. It was probably meant for stealth and quick assassination, and not this style of hand-to-hand combat. The troll lunged again with her good arm, forcing the huntress to parry. The troll locked their hilts together, bringing them chest to chest as the huntress tried to free her blade. Using her size advantage, the troll attempted to force the elf down on her knees, but Moriene resisted, teeth bared. Her muscles burned with the effort and the wound in her side throbbed angrily.

Stars erupted across her vision as the troll slammed her head against the elf's, sending her sprawling. Hearing a triumphant roar, she had just enough sense to roll away as a blade buried itself into the ground where she had been. Grabbing the blade, she staggered to her feet and tried to focus on the troll. Her vision struggled to clear as the troll attacked again, forcing her to block and parry attacks she could only dimly register.

She heard a scream, and realized it was her own. The troll's dagger had lodged itself between two of her ribs. The huntress staggered. Would this be her end, her legacy? Slain by a troll in Crystalsong because she had been too emotional to take her weapons? Slain over a man who, hours before, she had tried to reject completely?

His face appeared in her mind's eye. Though many of her race would not consider him handsome, she thought he was perfect from his glorious mohawk down to his bare, two-toed feet. She adored the way his eyes looked as though they were burning embers, and how they lit up whenever she smiled at him. She loved how his tusks fit on either side of her head so they could kiss. She loved how gentle he was, even though she knew it took a lot of effort from him. She loved his embarrassed smile when she had pulled the pillow off his tusks. Like it or not, despite all her cold logic and desire for self-preservation, she well and truly loved him.

It was true. She loved him. She had tried to deny it, had debated herself in her mind for months. How could she possibly know after one night? How could she be so sure of someone she barely knew? But the way their bodies moved together, the way they could bring each other so much pleasure, the way they somehow knew each other without really ever meeting before-it felt like fate. Moriene had never wanted to become one of the main characters in a great love ballad, or a protagonist in a dramatic play. She had never wanted to fall in love with a troll. But, contrary to what she wanted, it seemed she had been thrust into a dramatic story of her own; a story that now had her on her knees, hunched over in pain with a knife protruding from her chest. But the odd thing was, she knew she would die for her love without a second thought.

Yes, she decided, she would die for him one day. But it would not be today.

The troll brought Moriene's dropped dagger to her throat. "Any las' words, slut?" she hissed viciously. The elf's response was too quiet to hear. Bending down, the troll yanked on the elf's braid, making her look up. "Louder!"

The troll's eyes suddenly went wide. Looking down, she saw the dagger that had been buried in the elf's chest now protruded from her own. The elf, however, had been more accurate in her aim. The dagger had found its way into the troll female's cold, twisted heart.

Sputtering up blood, the troll fell and convulsed wildly. The two males stopped in their circling and watched silently for a moment. Their eyes flicked between Moriene and the fallen troll, their expressions slowly twisting in rage.

"Dat be our sista," one said between clenched teeth.

"Ya be dyin' now, elfie slut," the other growled, drawing a sword.

Moriene struggled to focus on the two trolls advancing on her. Had they intended to kill her this whole time, regardless of the fight's outcome? She couldn't fight. She couldn't run. She could barely keep her eyes open. How could she possibly survive this?

A wordless yell from above made the trolls pause. They glanced up right as a familiar cat's battle cry cut through the air. Anta'nar, her trusted companion and friend, leapt down from the back of a wyvern and knocked one of the trolls down. Another, taller figure landed behind the other troll and engaged him, luring him away from the injured elf. Blinking hard, Moriene watched as her pet clawed at one troll while dodging around his sword. After a few tense moments, the saber leapt up and latched onto the troll's throat, his long tusks puncturing bone. The troll crumpled, trapping the cat under his struggling, dying body.

Moriene tried to call out, tried to move to help him, but her body was cold and unresponsive. She barely registered the two trolls still fighting, barely recognized that one of them was very important to her. She wanted to keep watching, but the world was going dark. When she finally slumped forward, she faintly heard the panicked cry of a gryphon and thought it sounded just like Justice.

How strange.

* * *

Warm, soft hands felt her forehead, then twitched her blankets aside to check her bandages. Groggily, Moriene opened her eyes to see a thin woman with silvery hair, blue eyes, and long, long ears examining her wounds. Seeing that she was awake, the high elf smiled.

"You took quite a beating," she said softly. "I managed to heal the worst of it, but you will still need to rest a while before you are fully healed."

"Who…?" Moriene croaked, finding her mouth very dry.

"A troll brought you in," the high elf answered with a frown, handing her a mug of water. "He seemed most upset that you were injured."

"Ah," the huntress replied lamely, then gulped the water down. "How long have I been here?"

"Since yesterday. It's about noon now. Once you are well enough to walk, you are free to return to your room in the inn, but don't leave the city until I've examined you again. I'm afraid I simply don't have the room to keep you here." She gestured at the rest of the infirmary. Every bed was occupied, along with several cots and makeshift beds on the floor. Most of the people there were in much worse shape than she.

As she opened the door to her room some time later, a furry mass flung itself at her. Laughing hoarsely, Moriene hugged Anta'nar tightly, crooning and promising him she would never leave without him again, if she could help it, and praising his ferocity in battle.

"When I came back wit'out ya an' covered in ya blood, I be t'inkin' he an' Pounce here might kill me," said a deep, hoarse voice. Looking up, she saw Zul'antok standing by the window, looking as if he hadn't slept since he'd rescued her. His left arm was in a sling and one of his eyes was bruised and swollen, but he had survived.

Wordlessly, she went to him. He met her halfway and they embraced, careful not to crush his arm or her ribs, lips pressed together in a deep, passionate kiss. When she felt woozy, she pulled away gently and sat on the bed, pulling him down next to her. For a while, they simply sat and held each other. It was Zul'antok who broke the silence first.

"Ya fought another troll fo' me," he remarked softly.

"I did." She didn't dare look at him. "But I was not given much of a choice. I had to fight her to survive."

Gently, he cupped her chin in his good hand and lifted it so she met his eyes. "Do ya know what dis means?" he asked softly.

Moriene swallowed hard. "No." Her voice cracked, betraying her sudden nervousness.

"We be as good as married now." His eyes smiled, but the rest of his face was kept in a carefully neutral expression as he waited for her reaction.

For a while, she just stared at him. "What?" she asked finally.

"For de trolls, when ya be fightin' over a mate, de winner gets de mate."

"But that is hardly marriage. That is just for reproduction, is it not?" It felt as if all the blood had left her face. When she had faced death in Crystalsong Forest, she had decided she'd wanted a relationship with him, but marriage? That was a bit much. She could love him for all his mortal days, but she could not damn herself to hundreds of years of widowhood.

Suddenly, the troll grinned. "Dis be de first time I be seein' ya scared, Moriene. Don't ya worry. I won't be makin' ya do aught ya don't wanna do."

The elf released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "I am sorry, Zul'antok. I...I just...it is so against my culture, and my nature. I just...I could not bear it, after...well…"

He stroked her cheek gently. "An' if we not be married, be ya forgettin' ol' Zul'antok after he dies?"

"No," she whispered. "Never."

"Den ya be seein' how silly dis be." He lay back on the bed, good arm behind his head. Moriene remained where she was, watching him. Her mind raced frantically.

"I...I am not sure why it worries me so much," she began slowly. "I suppose...I feel like an animal trapped in a cage. It is against my nature."

"I not be cagin' ya," he said softly. "Never."

"No, I know you would not." She curled up next to him, careful not to upset her wound or his arm. "But...it is still difficult for me."

"We be takin' our time. I just be meetin' ya, after all."

She had to laugh at that, and subsequently went pale in pain as the wound in her chest protested. Frowning with concern, he held her tenderly until she recovered. At last, she tiredly looked up at him. "I cannot promise you a marriage. I can only promise you my love. Will that be enough for now?"

"More dan enough," the troll said gruffly, squeezing her in a gentle hug. "An' I be givin' ya mine in return."

The elf smiled at him. "Now, how about a nap? And then we shall make the most of our time together before we are called away to some other great battle upon which the fate of our world rests."

"If de world be endin' tomorrow, I be dyin' happy. I got Kungaloosh." Trying not to laugh, Moriene smacked him with a pillow and settled down next to her unlikely love to rest. The world could wait, she decided. Just then, she had what mattered the most.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he murmured in return.


End file.

Warcraft, Fantasy, Romance